Lunatics Radio Hour
Lunatics Library 37 - Demonic Summoning Horror Stories
Alan and Abby present four demonic summoning themed horror stories to round out our three part series.
A Fair Trade was written by Chris Ritchey and performed by Jon C Cook of the Fadò Podcast. Check out Chris's website here, and follow him on social media AuthorCRitchey.
Finding Friends Through Fiends was written and performed by Kat Day. Check out Kat's website here, and follow the PseudoPod for delicious horror stories.
Summoning was written by Terry Lander. Check out his book Monster Jack on Amazon. And follow Terry on social media Terry Lander Author.
Hunted was written by S.S. Fitzgerald and performed by Michael Crosa of the Podnooga Network. Click here for every way you can connect with S.S. Fitzgerald and support their work.
lunaticsproject.com
Get Lunatics Merch here. Join the discussion on Discord. Listen to the paranormal playlist I curate for Vurbl, updated weekly! Check out Abby's book Horror Stories. Available in eBook and paperback. Music by Michaela Papa, Alan Kudan & Jordan Moser. Poster Art by Pilar Keprta @pilar.kep.
What's it like to be a Cattle Rancher? FBI Special Agent? Professional Santa? Find out!
Listen on: Apple Podcasts Spotify
Alan and Abby present four demonic summoning themed horror stories to round out our three part series.
A Fair Trade was written by Chris Ritchey and performed by Jon C Cook of the Fadò Podcast. Check out Chris's website here, and follow him on social media AuthorCRitchey.
Finding Friends Through Fiends was written and performed by Kat Day. Check out Kat's website here, and follow the PseudoPod for delicious horror stories.
Summoning was written by Terry Lander. Check out his book Monster Jack on Amazon. And follow Terry on social media Terry Lander Author.
Hunted was written by S.S. Fitzgerald and performed by Michael Crosa of the Podnooga Network. Click here for every way you can connect with S.S. Fitzgerald and support their work.
lunaticsproject.com
Get Lunatics Merch here. Join the discussion on Discord. Listen to the paranormal playlist I curate for Vurbl, updated weekly! Check out Abby's book Horror Stories. Available in eBook and paperback. Music by Michaela Papa, Alan Kudan & Jordan Moser. Poster Art by Pilar Keprta @pilar.kep.
What's it like to be a Cattle Rancher? FBI Special Agent? Professional Santa? Find out!
Listen on: Apple Podcasts Spotify
Hello everyone, welcome back to another episode of the Lunatics Radio Hour podcast. I'm Abby Branker sitting here with Alan Kudan.
Speaker 2:Hello.
Speaker 1:Today we will conclude our demonic summoning series with four riveting demonic summoning horror stories for you.
Speaker 2:How riveting?
Speaker 1:10 out of 10.
Speaker 2:Wow Okay.
Speaker 1:And I have to acknowledge so. I posted on Twitter actually, and all four of these.
Speaker 2:You mean the platform formerly known as Twitter.
Speaker 1:Yes, all four of these stories came through that, so thank you to everybody for being an awesome community there and sharing your stories and there was many more as well, and it was really cool. It was like almost instantaneous.
Speaker 2:Are they still called tweets?
Speaker 1:I think so I'm not sure the branding, and I don't want to get down a rabbit hole on Twitter, to be honest.
Speaker 2:Okay, so where are we starting?
Speaker 1:So you'll recall from our epic deep dive into demonic summoning right that there's many different cultures and intersections and ways to interpret that. So I hope that these stories all sort of feel representative of different ways one can look at demonic summoning and I think that we've been successful at that Great. I also want to acknowledge that all four of these writers are making their lunatics radio hour debut in this episode. Wow, that's exciting. We have some recurring narrators, some new narrators, but overall I've just had such a demonic summoning has opened something, not that I've tried, not that I've dabbled, but just the research of it has really sort of opened a new world for me. So I'm excited to kind of have this version of modern short stories that interpret that to share with you guys, sure.
Speaker 1:So we're going to start with a story that was written by Chris Richie, and Chris's main focus is science fiction and fantasy. But he's a lifelong horror fan and he loves to dabble in the genre and has a horror book planned in the future which we can all look forward to, from psychopaths to existential horror. The depths of this genre and how well it can blend with others has always fascinated Chris, and he is in awe of those who are able to create masterpieces for the rest of us to lose sleep over. I'll tell you a little bit more about Chris and some of the upcoming projects and ways you can follow him after we listen to the story. But without further ado, let's just get right into it.
Speaker 4:The stagnant air made Alejandro cough. He wished he would have listened and put a bandana to go over his face. His shirt kept slipping down from over his nose as he crept through the tunnel, but he needed one hand to hold the torch and the other to keep his balance along the edge so he wouldn't fall into the water. It was only knee-deep, at least he thought so, but he had no desire to walk around with wet shoes if he could avoid it. There's no telling how long it had been since anything fresh made its way down here. He fell to quick two tugs on his rope and gave a quick two tugs back. He was glad Jose was keeping an eye on the time outside. He was surprised that the first five minutes seemed to take so long, but he hoped that meant he was making good progress.
Speaker 4:The rope slacked again and he proceeded further into the ruins. They thought the temple had been abandoned for centuries, but the apparent lack of air current preserved the walls and made it difficult to tell for sure. He ran his fingers over the well-defined carvings. Everything feels complete, no gems. Yet the path ramped up and dry stone appeared. He sat a cautious foot down and, finding it firm, proceeded on the larger path. He slowly swung the torch from side to side, looking at each wall for anything glinting back at him. The path narrowed and his smile grew wide. Before him sat two stone jaguars protruding from the doorway, guarding the inner entrance and staring at him with their jade eyes and mosaic stone masks. The jade was meant to purify those who entered the temple, but he wondered if that only meant those who were there under a good pretense. He polished the plates under each jaguar with his shirt and noted how it could be so shiny and black Is this obsidian? These items alone would bring in a hefty price, and Alejandro couldn't help but think about what other treasures lay further in. He felt another quick two tugs on the rope, pried loose one of the mirrors and put it in his satchel and passed through the archway. He returned them and pressed on into the chamber.
Speaker 4:He held the torch out in each direction, but couldn't see another wall or ceiling yet. He followed the wall until he came to a torch sticking out. He polished the gold plate behind it. Before lighting the torch, he was amazed at how much it brightened up the room. He followed the wall more and found several more torches, repeating the process each time. He finally saw an altar in the middle with a pedestal and a bowl on each side. He dipped a finger into the bowl, rubbed it between his fingers and smelled it—oil. He held his torch close and the bowl was set ablaze. He stopped as he crossed to the other bowl. He took a step to the altar and held his torch close. A deep red stained the stone in pools and lines running off the sides. He had heard about the ritual sacrifices, but he hadn't run across it in any of his raids so far. He quickly lit the other bowl and came back to the altar.
Speaker 4:Now that the room was adequately lit, he slowly turned to take everything in. He felt a cold breeze pass him by, but none of the flames flickered to give him an idea of where it came from. Another one he froze listening carefully. The whisper seemed inhuman. Suddenly, his mind was playing tricks on him. "'will he provide'. "'hello'. His parched throat squeaked out a whisper. "'this one hears. Perhaps he will listen and provide'.
Speaker 4:The two voices became distinct and the flaming bowls began to grow more intense. He began to back away from the altar. "'wait, strange one'. He covered his ears to block the voices as he stumbled back to the entrance. "'you cannot leave yet'.
Speaker 4:"'how—how are you in my head'. He tripped over the edge of a protruding stone and landed hard on his back. He desperately tugged on the rope but received no response. "'no one has woken us from our slumber in so long. Yes, stay, speak with us, help us'. A flash of light appeared to his left, as a blue and yellow man wearing what looked like a hummingbird helmet faded into existence. "'yes, stay and be rewarded'. To his right, another figure manifested, a jaguar formed from a swirling mist, regally weaving towards him. "'rewarded beyond your wildest dreams' "'I know you—you're wheat-illipochtly and tskatlipocha, but you're not real—your myths of a long dead religion'. "'then who are you talking to' the hummingbird said, poking Al's chest. The jaguar snapped his teeth near Al's face.
Speaker 4:"'perhaps he intends to fulfill our needs himself'. Alejandro closed his eyes as he asked "'What—what do you want'. Whitzel-ipochtly placed his hand over Al's heart and used the long beak of his mask to mimic gutting him open. "'we need to be nourished. It's been so long since anyone has honored us with a sacrifice'. Alejandro's heart began to pound against the spirit's cold hand. Tskatlipocha pounced by his brother and pinned Alejandro to the floor, a paw on each shoulder as he licked his lips. The priests have been failing us, only giving us what we need every fifty years. We are worthy of more, yet we are bound to this place until they stop providing'. Whitzel-ipochtly leaned down and spoke into Alejandro's ear. They see us as threats to be appeased, so we have no means to increase their supply of warriors. The pressure against Alejandro's shoulders was beginning to burn. "'i am no priest. I have no supply of warriors'.
Speaker 4:Tskatlipocha released Alejandro and both entities walked towards the other side of the room. Tskatlipocha transformed into a man and the brothers grabbed and turned two torches on the wall. A large thud shook the room and the wall began to part. Alejandro stumbled to his feet and held his gaze on the treasure being revealed before him. Whitzel-ipochtly grabbed a jeweled dagger and laid it on the altar. This is the only treasure that must stay. Everything else can be yours. The priests believe in us, thus we do not need to reward them for their service.
Speaker 4:Tskatlipocha stepped forward and stood next to his brother. "'you have the stench of thievery on you. It is not a noble or easy lifestyle. We would gladly reward you with more riches than you could ever steal'. He sat a small obsidian jaguar statue on the altar. "'we know each has worth in your world and the people you sell to ask no questions'.
Speaker 4:Alejandro began to reach for the idol but paused. "'how long would I be in your service? Each treasure you take bounds you to provide one more soul. You may stop any time you like, but we doubt that you will'. Whitzel-ipochtly's voice seemed haughty, confident in his offer. "'and if I refuse'. Alejandro dreaded the answer, but he had to ask. Tskatlipocha laughed and shifted back into a jaguar, hopping onto the altar.
Speaker 4:"'it's too late. You've already stolen one treasure. If you refuse, then we will take payment here and now'. He clenched his satchel. "'i didn't know. Ignorance is no excuse. Whitzel-ipochtly grasped the knife once more. Will you pay now, or will you be back soon with a worthy sacrifice'. "'perhaps you want to sacrifice your partner outside'. He would be acceptable as well.
Speaker 4:Tskatlipocha quietly lay prone and stared at Alejandro. He has a strong heart'. "'no'. Alejandro's outburst even surprised himself. "'i—i will find you another'. His eyes drifted back to the hidden treasure. Tskatlipocha smiled to himself. "'good, our spirits are bound to these objects until they have been paid. For Each passing day, our essence grows irritated by the lack of payment. You have until the next full moon to bring us what is promised'. "'if a payment has not been made by then', whitzel-ipochtly held his words as he felt Alejandro's heart twitch in anticipation. Then we will come for your friend outside. "'aleandro nodded quickly. I will not fail you. The brothers faded back into the mist and the doors to the treasure closed. Leave now, return for your rewards'.
Speaker 4:Alejandro turned and ran through the doorway in tunnel, splashing through. The water as he frantically tried to escape. The daylight blinded him as he ran into Jose. �alejandro, what has gotten into you? Why didn't you pull me out? What do you mean? It has been less than five minutes since the last check�. A chill ran over Alejandro as he realized the power of the temple. He grabbed Jose's shoulders and embraced him. �oh, little brother, I am sorry for bringing you into all of this.
Speaker 2:I've said it before and I'll say it again we need more Aztec horror.
Speaker 1:I knew you would love that story. I'm very glad that we had some Aztec horror finally. But also, I think this story is awesome because it sort of represents one of the major points that we talked about on the main episode, which was this idea of demons being old gods that were sort of vilified and also this idea of sort of involuntary versus voluntary dealings with demons. So I thought that it kind of also explored those things in a cool, fresh way.
Speaker 2:Absolutely. I love the dynamic of old gods needing to be satiated because, again. Everyone's just following rules. As long as you work within the framework, everything can be anticipated. And you love rules. I do like rules. I like villains that follow a certain set of rules. They very clearly outlined about how. We don't care who gets sacrificed, we just need a sacrifice. We will give you all these riches. All you need to do is give us what we want.
Speaker 1:It's like the promise of American gods by Neil Gaiman If the gods are not being believed in and worshipped in sacrifice, then they cease to exist. Yep.
Speaker 2:I think, yeah, before the ceasing to exist, there's the long period of complete dormancy.
Speaker 1:Yeah, yeah.
Speaker 2:I just think that's such a cool trope that you know it pops up every now and then. But it's kind of like you just don't see it that much where people kind of go exploring, awaken this sleeping thing. Sure, but that thing isn't just like some rampaging monster. This is effectively a deal with the devil, right, you might not want to do it, but as long as you're in it, as long as you just like follow the rules, maybe it's not so bad. Yeah, you got to murder some people Big deal, but you're not doing the murdering they are.
Speaker 1:Big deal and there's some tricksterness to it, which we talked about. A lot Big trickster energy yeah Also. So awesome job. Obviously. Chris Richie wrote this. So glad that he reached out and I hope that he'll continue to submit stories in the future.
Speaker 2:I just saw that this was part of a short story collection that he has.
Speaker 1:Yes.
Speaker 2:And I don't know if there's this is my first dive into it, but if there's more Aztec horror, I'm so on board.
Speaker 1:Yes, and if you want to keep tabs on Chris, his website is gestureslibrarycom and I think you'll find some of his works there. His Twitter is author C Richie and we'll certainly tag him so you guys can find him, and he's also currently working on the second book of a duology for his first sci-fi series, and the first book is currently available. It's called small town problems. So, definitely keep your eye on Chris. If you like this story, go support his work. I did like this story.
Speaker 2:And I would like to support his work.
Speaker 1:Great, and we also have to just shout out John C Cook of the Fado podcast, who narrated this, because he's just one of the, you know, the most excellent narrators of our time.
Speaker 2:He's just so fun how this is like the what 565th story he's done for us. Yeah, and it's, it's, and he's just dropping a bunch of new shit. It's amazing. I love what he did with the, the ethereal voices of the gods.
Speaker 1:He did his own special effects.
Speaker 2:I mean not even just that he personified the, the old gods, and it's like such a cool way that you know it. Just it really came alive.
Speaker 1:Yes.
Speaker 2:Despite them being, I don't know undead. Whatever it is.
Speaker 1:Yeah, John Cook is one of those people that when I get a specific story type of story and it could be anything, but there's just something about a story where I'm like this is a John Cook story and he's been so generous with us, so it's it's a treat to Thank you, John. Anytime we can feature him, it's my dream.
Speaker 2:Okay, strong start, but what's next?
Speaker 1:We're going to totally shift gears now.
Speaker 2:What country are we moving to? The?
Speaker 1:UK. Oh I. This is going to be a modern comedic wordle based demon story.
Speaker 2:Wordle. Mm hmm, Like the game wordle Correct For those of us that may or may not know explicitly how does wordle work.
Speaker 1:Great question, Actually. That is important to know. So wordle gives you sort of this grid of empty boxes and it's looking for five letter words. So your first guess can be any word and then if you got any of the letters correct for the word that you're trying to kind of figure out what the word is, they'll be yellow if the letter is in the word and green if the the letters in the word and it's in the right position. So essentially, you have five guesses and you know you try to find the word. I think the story that we're about to hear also is when wordle was weekly instead of daily. I see, that's, that's just my, my thought. Yeah, I'm so excited for this and I'm.
Speaker 2:I'm so.
Speaker 1:I'm so excited to have found Kat Day because she's an excellent writer, as you'll see, and narrator. She narrates her own story, which was also incredibly generous of her. But not only that she's part of the pseudo pod which is this awesome podcast that I've been binge listening to since I found her. It's a great name, yeah, and they have tons of what she describes as delicious horror stories for you. It's a horror story podcast which is like my dream come true. So that's pseudo pod again. We will make it really easy for you to find her, but please give it a listen.
Speaker 2:Yeah, it's super cool.
Speaker 1:Okay, without further ado, here's Kat's story. Finding Friends Through Fiends. Written and read by Kat Day.
Speaker 5:Monday's demon. The answer to Monday's wordle was demon and I decided to take it as a sign. After work I picked up a bucket of petroleum jelly, extra salt and candles. I mixed the salt with the petroleum jelly because, you see, that way it sticks to the floor and makes the line much harder to break. Basic sigil health and safety.
Speaker 5:The demon that arrived was terribly attractive Long, glossy hair, perfect cheekbones and musculature to make Swatzenegger weep for his lost youth. We spent the whole time staring into the lenses of his mirrored sunglasses and talking about how hard it was to find stylish clothes that would accommodate a tale. I managed less than half an hour. Tuesday's demon. I tried again on Tuesday and for a moment I thought it hadn't worked. But then the demon popped into existence three feet above the ground and did a graceful somersault before executing a perfect superhero landing. She was more interesting than Monday. In fact she was rather charming, too charming, I thought, after she'd gushed for a full five minutes about how clever my summoning circle was and how much she liked my old queen teacher. I remember a podcast I'd listened to featuring a psychologist. She said she advocated throwing the baby out with the bathwater when it came to charming people and I reckoned that probably went double for demons. Wednesday's demon Alright, look, I'm a supportive person. I am, but also I am not therapy for demons TM. Good grief, he had to go.
Speaker 5:Thursday's demon Thursday arrived in a reddish swirl and then sat cross-legged in the summoning circle wearing jeans and wire-rimmed glasses. They seemed quite normal, actually. We chatted about the news for a while and it was all rather pleasant Well as pleasant as chatting about the news can be these days. We even shared a sandwich. Apparently, it's next to impossible to get good cheese in hell. But then I realised they'd almost certainly had a hand in the current political situation and just no, I might be summoning demons in my basement, but I do have some standards.
Speaker 5:Friday's demon it had been a long week at work and Friday was especially trying. No, susan, I cannot do a three hour job by close of play if you send it to me at 4.30, especially when I know perfectly well you were only late handing it off because you were enjoying a long lunch with Mark for a procurement. Anyway, I almost abandoned the summoning session in favour of pizza and a few hours of Netflix, but I thought I'd not break my streak. So when Friday's demon arrived with a good bottle of scotch. I have to admit I was nearly one over on the spot. He was attractive too, in a demonic sort of way. The horns peeking through the choppy haircut were rather cute and he had nice eyes, told silly jokes and he made me laugh and he listened patiently to my complaints about Susan. But I drank a bit too much scotch and after the long work day, well, I dosed off and when I woke up, friday was gone.
Speaker 5:Saturday's demon. After the night before I was hopeful really, but then Saturday turned up with a scorched smell and a laptop from which they barely moved their gaze. I can get that in Starbucks, thanks Sunday's demon. I think something went wrong. I did the usual routine, and by this point I was pretty practised, so I don't really understand it. Perhaps the candles burned a bit too low, or maybe I fumbled over the middle bit of the chant, who knows. Anyway, what arrived wasn't a demon. I don't think, although some do say they're from the same stock. All those eyes Shish. Anyway, I'm allergic to feathers.
Speaker 5:After the spots had cleared from my vision, I looked at the mess and considered cleaning up, but after all that I couldn't face the rubbing alcohol fumes. So I left the petroleum jelly salt sigil and trudged upstairs and went to bed. I'm meant to turn the light out and sleep. I really did, but you know how it is Twitter argument, update the online supermarket order, catch up with some podcasts, play a few games. Before I knew it, it was 12.01. Time for a new wordle. And what do you know? The answer was 5th and I almost missed it because come on 2 F's and I realised I'd almost missed something else too. But never mind, my streak isn't quite broken yet and it'll be Friday again in five days.
Speaker 2:Hot dang 2 for 2.
Speaker 1:Isn't it fun that was great. So fun. I loved it. So charming. Charming, but not too charming.
Speaker 2:No, because then you have to throw out the baby with the bath water. That's right, exactly that was great.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:So she wrote and voiced this yes, super cool.
Speaker 1:Yeah, which was awesome of her because she does such a great job. And I want to tell you guys a little bit more about Kat, because she is an editor and writer who lives in Oxfordshire. By day she works as a medical editor, looks after her two children and wrangles the Pseudopod Towers tentacles into producing horror stories every week. By night. She does all of the things she hasn't managed to do during the day. Her work has been published at venues including Flash Fiction Online, cast of Wonders and Daily Science Fiction, and she writes regular Flash for her blog, which is thefictionfilewordpresscom. Again, I will link it, and this is where the story that she just read first appeared. You can also find her on Blue Sky at chronicleflaskcatdaycom and that's K-A-T-D-A-Y. The story was also first written as a part of the Codex Weekend Warrior Contest, so if you're a published author, go check out the Codex community, which is codexwriterscom.
Speaker 2:I know it's simple, but I'm just such a sucker for that accent.
Speaker 1:And I'm a sucker for comedy horror. You know like demons can be fun. Summoning demons can be comedy and I, like you, know that not everything is so serious all the time.
Speaker 2:Didn't we do a short about demonic summoning?
Speaker 1:We did. It was called. It was a four part series called the Satanic Blogger, but I took them down because I didn't think they were that great.
Speaker 2:They were too good, they're too good and they overshadowed your other work. The world wasn't ready.
Speaker 1:The world wasn't ready for them.
Speaker 2:Can we put them back?
Speaker 1:Maybe, yeah, maybe we shall.
Speaker 2:We should watch them first, yeah that's a good point.
Speaker 1:Okay, two for two.
Speaker 2:Yeah, excellent, wonderful.
Speaker 1:Next we have a story written by Terry Lander, and I'm going to tell you a little bit more about Terry. After we listen to the story, the laughter of his three tormentors ringing in his ears, he grasped for the bare walls around him, hoping to catch a handle or coat hook to steady himself as he gasped for breath, his eyes wide and focused, he had no fear of the dark More. He was hyper aware of the broad sword hanging on the wall at the back of the cupboard, put there by his teacher, mr Harrison, who was a level eight dwarven paladin of the God Helm. As soon as the last bell rang, inevitably George's head hit the floor. As the laughter became muffled, the door slamming shut in front of him, he considered whether he should have fought back before conceding that his small frame would have been no match for any one of them, let alone the three working together. A stale, dusty scent invaded his nostrils and threatened to evoke a sneeze, causing him to raise his hand to pinch his vibrating nose. He felt the sweat drip from his fingers into his mouth, taking with it the gray, unidentified particles that had resided on the floor where he landed. He urged at the thought, controlling his stomach with deep breathing. A click confirmed the catch outside had finished sliding across and he was trapped. The noise of his friends fading away to nothing. He was still alive, at least, meaning the sword hadn't fallen to the ground and pierced his head or body. His only thought then was escape. How to undo the catch without causing any damage to the door? Ten minutes later, filled with thoughts of succumbing to the sharp blade and damage to the door was the least of George's concerns, he charged repeatedly, hoping his blazer would pad his shoulder as he felt the hard woodwork against him.
Speaker 1:On his final charge, george braced for the impact, yet found himself flying out towards the window in the classroom, the door finally removed by Mr Harrison who was about to start the next class. He landed on his sister's best friend, who pushed him away and watched him land on his side with narrow, hate-filled eyes. The rest of the class laughed hysterically, leaving George his cue to exit. Pain was surging through his shoulder and his trousers had torn across each knee, although both were largely unnoticed by the now-focused lad. No, running through the corridors came the usual cry from the headteacher. As George shot past her office, he barely flinched, keeping his pace as he rounded another corner and descended into the basement library, his brown hair flowing backwards. The rows of books followed the curve of the stairs lining each wall floor to ceiling, at the bottom of which was a white painted area that was lit with a bright LED display. This was designed to work with the ceiling lights to keep the area homely. He knew his tormentors would be in there, as they spent most of their lesson times hiding, although he had no idea what he was about to come across.
Speaker 1:Heidi, william and Eric had removed their matching blazers, as ever, to reveal their identical white shirts. Having claimed in the past that it was in an attempt to distance themselves from their fellow pupils, all three were sat around a salt circle with a Nike swoosh drawn inside. Drawing curiosity from George, who maintained his distance. He could smell incense burning in the background, giving the room an air of sandalwood and ash that clashed with the usual dusty atmosphere. This is going to be ace, heidi proclaimed.
Speaker 1:She handed William an old book with a worn red cover before retreating back to her chair, smiling intently throughout. There were hundreds of pages inside, all yellowed and stained from years of use. The diagrams were unholy beasts and symbols that were large enough to be seen across the room. Eric was looking at the pictures with wide eyes, his tongue stroking his wispy mustache as he studied the page, like a toddler waiting to receive their first chocolate. George didn't recognize it from the library and surmised that it must have come from Heidi's house. Her mother was known to be into crystals, spirituality and witchcraft, all of which had made George's mother discuss the family at great length. He'd promised never to go near her, despite his fondness for her shoulder-length wavy blonde hair, although any affection for her in that moment had been replaced. He tightened his fists as he looked on, adhered to the brown, worn-out carpet.
Speaker 1:William had long been the leader of the three and was George's biggest tormentor, although he knew he wasn't alone. William had been tipped for stardom in Hollywood. His looks often compared to those of Brad Pitt, and this had given him a swagger throughout his school days. As he took the book from Heidi, he licked his lips and returned a blank expression, perusing the pages with utmost concentration. This is the one he quietly declared before studying the content.
Speaker 1:The room went silent. Eric's enthusiasm the only point of note as he shuddered on his chair. He rarely spoke, instead communicating in grunts and noises. When necessary he could talk. He seemingly just didn't want to. George saw him as William's bodyguard, a stocky lad who was willing to jump on anybody considered a threat to the trio. He might have intervened at that point had it not been for Eric's looming presence. I don't know how to pronounce this. William said, his eyes contorted as he studied the text Demonicus, d-mon-i-cus. Heidi confirmed Forget the A. William nodded and continued to read. Eric's dark hair danced on top of his head, moving from side to side. George started to tremble, the sweat becoming noticeable through his blazer. D-mon, he mouthed, keen to remain hidden. The book dropped on William's lap as he closed his eyes and rubbed them with his spare hand, he nodded before he picked the book back up again and gave it his full attention. Heidi and Eric looked on wide-eyed and beaming. Seconds later, the words spoken were lost.
Speaker 1:In a whirlwind created in the middle of the room, the ceiling lights dimmed and brightened twice before the glass shattered and showered those present. A short spell of near darkness was replaced by a sinister red light that was just enough to reflect from the covers of the books, flying around in a tornado, george's hair was blown back and he put a hand up to protect his face, just in time to save it from a large paperback copy of Oliver Twist. In the eye of the whirlwind, a form rose from the carpet and started to take shape. His legs looked like the hind legs of a horse and were connected to a tall, broad frame that was incredibly muscular. The head of the creature was human-like, aside from the sharp teeth that protruded awkwardly from all angles and the curled horns adorning his forehead. Demon George shouted his voice disappearing into the vortex, unheard. On closer inspection, george could see the scales of the beast glimmering with a sheen that made it seem slimy a thin, ghastly tail looped towards the floor and back up the end adorned with an arrowhead shape. Thick streams of drool ran from mouth to floor where they pooled and charred the carpet. It seemed to have no sentience other than that of an angered wild boar on a mission to punish the family taking a picnic in its field. The faces of the three summoners were being blown back, as though they turned a hairdryer on full towards them.
Speaker 1:William had dropped the book and was frantically trying to pick it up from the carpet. The force too strong to allow it. His chair eventually blew backwards, tipping him over and onto the floor. He banged his head abruptly, though remained conscious enough to rub his wound in grimace. How do we, hidey, uttered before succumbing to the same fate. The demon held out two muscular arms and roared a sound that carried across the room. Despite the incredible noise already present, a forked tongue poked out between its two very thin lips, and George could see the extent of those incredible teeth, almost hypnotized by their size. Eric's static expression suggested he was also mesmerized, his stare fixed directly towards the center of the gaping void. Heidi looked up from her position on the floor and shouted a warning to her friend, watching helplessly as he was picked up from his sitting position and held aloft, his body smashing through the suspended ceiling and causing panels to crash to the floor.
Speaker 1:Eric woke briefly from his trance as he shook his head and his eyes widened his jaw, separating with haste to allow a mighty scream to travel above the commotion. The beast then almost unhinged his own to fit the young lad inside teeth that had been once hypnotic, extinguishing the life of the young bully. George gulped, his hands vibrating as they clung to the corner of the wall he was hiding behind. At that moment, a brainwave struck and he was reminded of the most effective weapon. He could lay his hands on an image flashed before him and he could see the potential, imagining the damage it could cause if the being was indeed mortal. He turned from his spot on the library and ran as fast as he could up the stairs In the corridors above the pandemonium. The air was moving swiftly towards the library and creating a stiff breeze throughout.
Speaker 1:Despite this, life continued as normal, with lessons being conducted, flying, paperwork cured by the careful placing of long armed staplers as paperweights. As George ran past the headteacher's office, she once again shouted for him to slow down, using his full name to ensure her instructions would be followed. However, he barely stirred, keeping his mind set on where he was going. Before long, he found himself in front of Mr Harrison's broadsword and paused very briefly. The handle was covered in green and purple rope that was majestically woven in a crisscross pattern, beneath a circular pommel adorned with a cross that was reminiscent of Excalibur. The blade, perfectly machined and shiny, winked at George as the light caught the sharp edge. I hope you can help me, he said awkwardly, before moving slowly forward and removing the sword from the stand. His movement was ceremonially slow and deliberate, yet he still nearly dropped the weapon from his shaking, dripping hands, catching it just in time and becoming more wary of the weight.
Speaker 1:Students were using the classroom as a common room, some kissing while others talked about videos they'd shot with their skateboarding friends, none of them paying any attention to what was going on. In the cupboard, the sword made it impossible for George to run back through the school, earning him a that's Better from the headteacher. He wondered how he was going to use it, given how difficult it was for him to carry. By the time he got to the stairs above the library, he was practically dragging it behind him, which made the descent incredibly tough. Finally, he found himself across the room from the commotion, sweating and puffing like he never had before. The beast was within his sights, so he summoned the last of his energy, added a rush of adrenaline and lifted the steel as high as it would go. He didn't have time to think of anything witty to say. Instead, he put his left foot out and started an impressive run. As he got close, he swung the mighty blade towards the torso of the incredible monster and missed. Great job, abby. Thanks Alan.
Speaker 2:Very proud of you.
Speaker 1:But more importantly, great job to Terry Lander. What a fun story.
Speaker 2:That was great.
Speaker 1:And I was really thrilled that we found a story also that was very well written and funny and again, doesn't take itself too seriously, has kind of this comedic edge to it. I didn't find it funny, but it has some wit to it. You know it's, it's. There's references to D&D, there's some high school drama going on. There's the head teacher. You know he's about to try to slay a demon and the head teacher is telling him to slow down. You know it's, it's got some, some lightness to it.
Speaker 2:I had too close to home for me.
Speaker 1:Your head teacher tell you to slow down.
Speaker 2:More of this was like one step removed from like my perfect YA demonic summoning story. So you know I I don't know that. I hope this is part of a bigger collection because this is great.
Speaker 1:Yeah, so if you are interested, if anybody out there is interested, as I think all of you will be in more work from Terry, I'm going to link monster jackpot, which is a book that Terry wrote that's available on Amazon. I will link that monster jackpot. Yes, great name.
Speaker 2:Love it.
Speaker 1:And he's also just put out a new book called slothly, which is about his journey to become a slow marathon runner, which I can really relate to. Also, of course, you can follow him on Instagram, twitter and Facebook as Terry Lander author. But yes, another excellent story. I really enjoyed this. It kind of feels very similar to something out right. So so thank you again to Terry, follow Terry, support him and we have one finale story for you guys.
Speaker 2:Okay, so at the beginning you said there was four stories. By my calculations that leaves one left. You're a genius.
Speaker 1:Thank you. I've always said that about you, have you? So I'm going to give you guys another new writer, all four new writers for us. Not a new writer in general, but a new writer for lunatics radio hour. This story comes to us by SS Fitzgerald. Oh.
Speaker 1:So, and I'm going to give you guys a little bit of information about what this is because it plays into a larger work which I know Alan always loves. So the story that we're going to read is a lead up to sinners pass, which is a contemporary horror novel set to be released in late September 2024. So mark your calendars, Okay. This story takes place roughly 200 years before the events of sinners pass, so it's sort of a prequel, if you will, short story prequel to the novel that he has coming out in September. More short stories in the same universe will be released as sinners pass approaches its release date, which I think is a really cool thing and subscribers to his newsletter will get first glimpses at art and short stories related to the novel.
Speaker 1:You can check out his link tree, which we will add to the description of this episode, which is also where you can see his website, Facebook, Twitter, all the social handles. So definitely check all that out, but without further ado. But without further ado, let's roll the tape. I did read my SS Fitzgerald, read by Michael Grosso.
Speaker 6:Kazeek was jerked out of sleep by a bang. His eyes snapped open, his heart racing. He rises in the darkness searching for the source of the noise. When he finds it, a now familiar combination of relief and embarrassment wash over him. The woven shutters of the now vacant hamlet had caught the breeze. The handcrafted wood lightly tapped against the wooden leg holding up the roof. Kazeek certainly had not tried to fasten the feeble wall together and he guessed that the family hadn't before their encounter with Kazeek. It wouldn't matter. The little shelter was only temporary in Kazik's escape. Kazik crossed his arms across his chest and waited for sleep to return. It wasn't long ago. He too was lying himself, just as the pursuers were lying to themselves. Now he saw it as beneath him. They are pathetic, and only he could see it. They were like starving men begging for food at the heels of their invaders, like drowning men. Sometimes Kazik would try to muster anger at his own, but he has found, since his transcendence, nothing comes but contempt, no loathing. There was loathing in his heart. A soft spattering of rain started. He opened his eyes. The sound of the pattering rain on the soft ground could give cover to anything approaching that he could not allow, he would have to start moving himself.
Speaker 6:Kazik rose and emerged from his seized shelter. The darkness was all-consuming, but he could see fairly well in the dark. The wide space provided little for the imagination. A village further down the hill seemed uninterested still, but that didn't mean others weren't still coming for him. The village below was unaware of his presence. The two bodies that lie still in the dark to his right was his guarantee that no one would be alerted of his presence until he was long gone.
Speaker 6:He was being hunted for his beliefs. He was being hunted for knowing the truth. They hunted him because they could not accept the power he had rediscovered Five years ago. He had found himself going further up north, trying, as his elders had suggested, to make peace with the white settlers that were sprouting up like weeds. Kazik wasn't fooled by the lavish lifestyle of their invaders. Instead, being in their presence exhausted him and slowly dragged his power and confidence down. The settlers are naive to their lands, newcomers who knew little of the forest and its secrets. Survival was not keen. To their pasty invaders, starvation could set in on their outings quickly. Kazik used his guiding abilities to slowly get closer to going home.
Speaker 6:It was during one of these expeditions that food had become hard to find. Everything was not helping and a mishap in a river had sent most of their food to waste. No one would know. Kazik realized he could have just left them. That was no more noble. No, the entire expedition had been them calling him to his greater power. He could remove what he saw as invaders, debase them and take on a power meant for the greater spirits.
Speaker 6:His hatchet made quick work of the sleepers. The next morning he set camp and feasted until his belly was full, making his way further south. Returning home, the hunger followed him from beyond the grave. He had thought his one act might have been enough to satisfy the calling, but it came back to a crippling degree. Being amongst his own people had also not satisfied the urge. He had still clung to some of the teachings of his people. It had been his own ignorance which now only made him more self-aware. He stayed on the edges of his home village, hoping the cravings would dissipate, that hunting in a return to his childhood upbringing would see the thirst quench. Kazik could not take the hunger pangs. A godly force was calling him to his work. He took to hunting the forest, but hunting for two-legged prey. It was difficult. In those times the hills and trees were still mostly his people. He had to venture far from their sphere to find adventurers and settlers that had gone astray.
Speaker 6:For a time dissatisfied his need. One outing he had made a mistake. His prey was too skittish, and a pursuit ended with a musket ball hitting Kazik just next to his left armpit. He had to stay out in the forest for days after that tending his own wound. Lest his own discovered his injury it would be impossible for him to explain. He was sure that the wound would claim him.
Speaker 6:His body burned each night and the hunger, the hunger never went away. At night he would have vivid images come to him. The world around him became foggy. There would be a light that existed from the sky above, not the sun, not the moon, not even the stars, just an ever-present light. Hoots became louder, not as if owls were overhead, but as if one large beast covered the land. At night, unearthly things would prowl the forest floor, things he had cast out as childish stories from elders long dead. Ghostly images of walking monstrosities would creep between trees, powerful beings the likes only found in cautionary tales. Yet he was seeing them, stalking, hunting, hunting for him. Yet those nights passed and he found himself moving slowly each day until he returned home Still healing. The knights did not return with their monsters, but the hunger did. Kazik knew he had passed some great ancestral test, one they did not speak of, likely as they feared they could not pass the test themselves. As he grew stronger with each day, the more he saw his own people as simple primitive and denying their roles.
Speaker 6:The crucial day had come and his hunger was too great. A boy had wandered up to his area. He humored the boy for a while. He was wild and daring, as they needed to be. But as the boy bent over to inspect fish Kazik had laid out for him. He saw the strong muscles in the boy's legs, the tender flesh, the meat that called to him. A rock made quick work, bashing the skull. Kazik slowly picked at the morsels that had opened from the skull. The hunger was satisfied with this and he began to pick more greedily.
Speaker 6:It had not taken long for the village to seek the boy. Kazik could not deceive them all, even with his budding knowledge. He would be cast out and then killed for what he had done. So Kazik found himself in the rain at night, wondering how far his pursuers were. The old gunshot wound under his arm, throbbed it often did when he was cold a reminder that he was a survivor. He was the hunter too. He could kill more in the sleeping village below, but that would only consume more time and ensure he was caught. Instead, he turned to the dark and started off in through the rain. Kazik hefted the sack filled with his next meal. They had been pieces given by the two he had caught unaware before taking to their hut. It could sustain him long enough to find a more suitable hunting-ground. He started north, maybe because of the thought of hunting, or it was just the most logical direction to travel. Kazik moved slowly through the hunting and game trails as he traveled away out of sight of the hut in the supporting village he stopped.
Speaker 6:There wasn't a sound that drew him. It was something else. Something seemed out of place, a sensation that something was off. He let the rain wash the feeling away. It had to be the fear that came and went with being caught, being prevented from exploring the power he had learned. There was a noise. There was no way he imagined it too low and clear to be imagined. Something just stepped on the dried grass, just over the right knoll, with nothing else to do.
Speaker 6:He darts farther down the trail and halts. He waits. A shiver rags down his body, not a simple chill. The world was becoming warmer, but his blood was running colder. A slight fog crested the hill. There were more footsteps slowly moving just on the other side of the crest. Something moved past too, for their trees.
Speaker 6:Kazeek's eyes go wide. Whatever it is, it's huge. The body nearly bridged the large gap between the trees, all but blocking out what little light there was. The creature disappears behind the crest of the hill again. It would be at the front of the trail now, but there was nothing there. The only sound was Kazeek's own beating heart.
Speaker 6:He begins to notice the smell. It lingers at first like smoke. A rancid stench comes on heavier, like rotten eggs combined with coppery blood. In the undeniable stench of rotting flesh, there comes a lower noise ahead in the trail, a low growl like a rabid dog being dragged over rocks. Kazeek's body shook with pure fear. Now Something was hunting him, but it wasn't his people. It had to be one of them. All of his experience, all of his skill would mean nothing. He means nothing. Bile rises in his throat. The presence starts to walk away again, the crunching of grass announcing its departure.
Speaker 6:Kazeek stayed motionless. He would not move until he was sure the predator had actually left. The rain came and went and soon a soft glow started to pierce through the trees and down at the forest floor. He rose and started to move. Just how wet the ground was. He was able to move like a ghost himself. He was right, it had not been his imagination. At the head of the trail, where he had lost view of the monster, were prints. The prints were larger than his head, partly hooved. There were odd, deeper prints along the sides, like enormous claws that accompanied some hoofed beast. They were his hunters, but he knew the human type of hunters were likely not far behind.
Speaker 6:Kazeek moved on. Heading further north, there had been a town the Whites had set up for years, not much further. Last they had seen the people had abandoned their town, not surprising even among the more cross-trained of his former brethren. Supposedly there had been warnings sent to the first of the settlers. They had not listened. Of course His people and those nearby had used the small valley to banish their sick, not the physically sick, the ones that became sick of the mind, of the spirit. His own would not pursue far into the valley and the old abandoned homes would give him shelter for the night. There was a large river that cut off the south approach from the valley, but Kazeek knew of a shallow end of the river further up the east side. The trek was surprisingly peaceful, for how frightening the morning had started. The weather was almost clear. A darkened sky did not curse him with more rain but kept the harsh sun at bay. It was good, as he would need to continue the course for most of the light-bearing hours of the day until he reached the shallow section of the river Unhindered. He continued the events only reinforcing that he was innately chosen by his ancestors to revive their true culture.
Speaker 6:Kazeek reached the shallow part of the river, small fish lingered and darted away as he stepped into the rocky sediment. It was good there was no rain. The river did have a tendency to become wild rapidly, but for now it was barely at his calves. A light breeze greeted him on the other side. From his wet legs, a chill climbed up him. He had never stopped. He started moving immediately and was just out of sight from the river when he stopped in his tracks. Off in the distance, standing just outside of the tree line, was a tall figure. It was enormous, towering and standing still. Even with keen eyes at the distance, he could not make out the face of the monstrosity. Kazeek knew it was watching him. There was no doubt in his mind. It was the creature.
Speaker 6:From earlier in the morning, kazeek knew it was a monster. The proportions were all wrong, even for the largest of beasts. But Kazeek did not need to rely on just that. As a hunter, himself a hunter of men. It was stalking him, just as he had stalked men over the last few months. The thing moved. The movement allowed Kazeek to see the outline of the sharp antlers that adorned the monster's skull. He could see the malice pouring out of the creature, creating a shimmering around the entire body, like the body carried the mirage of heat wherever it went. For a few moments longer the stare down continued. Then the monster slowly receded back into the brush. Kazeek knew now he'd be seeing the creature again soon. He waited longer, ensuring the creature had actually left.
Speaker 6:Kazeek stayed further on the east side, wishing to avoid going near where the creature may be lurking. Moving again, he couldn't help but wonder if the creature could smell the sweet meat he was carrying. Perhaps the monster was just as hungry for flesh as he was. Kazeek walked up the long side of a knoll. Hooting came from above loudly, like a bang from one of the settler's muskets, then another and another. Soon it was like Kazeek was walking along a cavern lined with thousands or millions of owls. He crossed a small babbling brook at the crescendo of hoots and stepped out into sunlight. He could see down the knoll into the valley below.
Speaker 6:The town was deserted. Part of it had burned and only a charred skeleton of a building remained there, but it wasn't completely empty. At the furthest point, at the far north end, something moved. A man, a white man, moved about, slowly lumbering. When he stood and walked like the man was infected, but then he'd bend or squat down and work vigorously. The faint sounds of pounding and sawing crept up from the valley to Kazeek's ears.
Speaker 6:Kazeek waited a long while. He had expected the town to still be abandoned, and it seemed it still was. The man had been the only one moving. He was building some sort of structure and doing it alone. It was not like his own people's work, though this was very much like the work Kazeek had seen when he had gone further north and become a guide. It was like the abandoned buildings of the town itself.
Speaker 6:Kazeek started down the knoll as the sky darkened more with the setting of the sun. He could easily kill one man. This may very well be a test from his ancestors, the first strike to getting his people back on track. Kazeek was not alien to how the settlers built their homes. He was fine. Going through the first one, he found A dampness hung in the air and weeds had broken through the floor, but it was the roof he truly wanted. A table remained with nothing else.
Speaker 6:Kazeek set his prized meal down on the table and began to unwrap the binding. He used his bone knife to cut a sliver off. He dangled the meat above his tongue and then dropped it in. It was preferable to cook first, but he didn't want to alert the man he was there. He would eat first and then seek out the lone man. A crunching stopped that thought.
Speaker 6:Kazeek slowly backed into a darker shadow of the building, his knife still in hand. Was it the monster or was it the man? He prepared his hatchet in the other hand. A humidity filled the room. A chill scurried up his spine. It's here.
Speaker 6:Steps came up against the door of the building. A long scraping started at the door, like the monster was scraping its antlers against the wooden door. Heavy breathing rattled outside. Kazeek waited for the creature to ram the door. But it never comes. Quick footsteps crunched away. Kazeek waited. Maybe it was the man. Kazeek braved the door. The door had been damaged by something Carved Letters from a language Kazeek did not know. They see you. But the writing meant nothing to him, not knowing the words. The sign only sent anger flaring up inside of Kazeek. He'd kill the man. He'd kill the man and eat him.
Speaker 6:Kazeek ran off into the dark through the abandoned buildings. A war hunt. Now he would expel the last of the invaders. He'd reclaim the territory that had been his ancestors. An orange light gave way. He was getting close, a flickering light that moved and snapped. The man had built a fire outside the structure he was building. Standing before the incomplete building, he realized the man was building a church. All the more reason to kill him.
Speaker 6:Kazeek waited in the dark near a fallen building, waiting for the man to return to tend to the fire so he could strike. The man never arose from the building. The fire slowly started to consume the last of its fuel, dying, and the man did not show his face. Kazeek would actively seek the man. Then he rose and moved stealthily towards the church.
Speaker 6:At the cusp of the fire was the first post to a fence. At a distance, kazeek had not noticed the topper adorning the post. Up close he was able to see the round topping was a human skull, rotting flesh still sagged at some corners, making it almost blend in with the wooden post. Kazeek passed the morbid display without a second glance. The large doors to the church had more words on it. With the dying fire, kazeek could barely make out their shape La Lumière est morte. Again, the letters meant nothing, but they looked to be painted in blood. Kazeek gently tugged the doors, but they were firm, locked or barricaded. He didn't want to risk making a noise and announcing himself to his prey.
Speaker 6:Kazeek crept along the side of the church and around the backside. He had hoped to find another entrance. He saw another, smaller door that he sought. The field in the back was dirt, a soft-worked soil and gentle on the soles of his feet. He could have easily passed through the field without a second thought. But he kicked something hard, hard but hollow. The light was dim. Only the smoky moonlight above gave any reprieve of the night. But it was a bone, not just one bone, dozens. Kazeek stepped back and looked at the field and realized there were dozens of bodies strung out all along the field, all bare skeletons, their bones like small rocks in the softly-tilled soil. The back door of the church opened. No light came but an ever-consuming darkness. A fog poured out of the darkness, the humidity returned and hooting called not to him but a frantic shout of excitement, like a hunting party closing in on its wounded prey. Kazeek turned and ran. He would not be the prey. He couldn't be the prey.
Speaker 6:Kazeek flew through the abandoned town, ignoring that now the walls were more decayed, ignoring that once-painted walls were now peeling, ignoring that tall-standing structures were warped and leaning. He clambered up the knoll where he had first spied the man Just over the knoll and he'd be off into the river. He'd be away. Got him A voice shouted in English. Kazeek went tumbling, soil filled his nose, grass and dirt stuffed his mouth. He felt hands on him, too many to be a single man. He screamed and kicked, but rope was already biting into his skin. He was rolled over.
Speaker 6:It was not the man he had seen. It was a vaguely white man, and three of his own. Not just of him, but his own, from his village. It's the beast. One said in his native tongue you ran because you knew what you did. You are a coward.
Speaker 6:Their leader said Is this the one killing people? The white man asked His own brethren betrayed him. They confirmed his sins to the invader. There's something coming. Because he cried. The real beast is coming. Cry all you wish. We saw what you did to the boy. We found the families you left in your wake. Their leader answered the beast is still coming. Time to that tree. The leader commanded Because he knew this might have been his fate. He almost hadn't feared it at one point, but the last day had proven there was a reason to fear the stories. It's coming. The men ignored him as he was lashed to a tree. I've seen it. It's coming. You won't want to be here. Take me with you, kill me if you must, but there's a monster in that town. What's he saying? The white man asked he's lying. The leader answered back in English.
Speaker 6:That's it, you just tie him to a tree. The white man asked again. The leader took his knife off his hip. He didn't answer the white man because he knew, and so did Kazeek, what was to come next. Blaring pain went surging through him. Kazeek screamed the pain, the pain. The leader stood back up with a bloody knife. He had severed the hard tendons behind Kazeek's feet.
Speaker 6:Kazeek had expected this punishment. He expected this to be the start to a slow end. He would never walk again and would be left to die, lashed to a tree. But now, now he knew the legends were true. You are fools, kazeek mumbled out over the searing pain, and you are dead. The leader responded Just to serve for you all, the white man asked. The leader nodded, the men turned, started to leave. You really are leaving me here, punished by the hand of not just you, but of one of our invaders. Kazeek called to the men, but they walked as if they did not have ears.
Speaker 6:Kazeek had experienced many pains in his life, the shot having been one of the worst. Even the aching throb of his scarred shot wound could not compare to the throbbing pain coming from his legs. But worse was, he now had to be vigilant over the pain of any approach, his true hunter now had him. His wakefulness lasted throughout the night. Kazeek had started to wonder if the hunter didn't like easy prey. Perhaps starvation or bleeding to death would be his demise after all.
Speaker 6:But as morning set in, he realized he was not in the world he belonged to. The sky was dark, like the pupils of so many of his victims. Yet a light still shined enough, another worldly light that allowed a view of the world. A fog had rolled in, casting the field and knoll into a wispy white. The grass that had been so green and vibrant just the day before was down, brown and long dead. Then he heard the first crunch On two long legs. It approached, arriving out of the fog, with a skullhead, long antlers curled and twisted above it. A flap of a former face was stretched between the two antler sets, still dripping with warm blood. Black bulbs filled the skull's eye sockets. The demon approached unhindered.
Speaker 2:I didn't know what to expect, but that was certainly not it. I was getting strong vibes from the movie Prey. When you have, like, the indigenous people versus the colonizers, and then there's the fucking predator there, just you know also there fucking everything up.
Speaker 1:Yeah, so I'm very interested to see the novel that this predates, because it is a bit ethereal and hard to kind of pin down the exact sort of world that we're in. But to your point, we know that there are colonizers, we know that there's indigenous folks in the story, and then also we have this horned gaunt demon which to me screams Wendigo. So that was my interpretation, but I don't know if that's right or wrong.
Speaker 2:I don't know. There's so much hunger imagery that of course they started thinking of the Wendigo as soon as he said antlers.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:Before we get too into the weeds about that, I just want to call out that Michael Crosa did a killer job with this. He did, and, oh my god, I love his colonizer voice.
Speaker 1:Yikes. So this story was narrated by our friend Michael Crosa, who is the mastermind behind the Pod Nuga podcast now work. So Michael is an incredible person. We have talked about him a lot before on the podcast. He has several podcasts. We're going to link everything below. Thank you so much to Michael. You really brought this story to life and it was a bit of an epic short, so we certainly appreciate it. I also want to talk a little bit about SS Fitzgerald Again so excited for Sinner's Pass when it comes out in September, and we will link everything for Michael and for SS Fitzgerald in the description below so that you guys can find them easily. But I do want to get into the Wendigo lore a little bit because it kind of calls to mind a little bit of a philosophical question that I've had that I'm curious your take on.
Speaker 2:Okay.
Speaker 1:We talked a lot in the history episode about demonic summoning, about this idea of different ways that you can summon a demon. Right, you summon a demon when you create a whole ritual intended to do that. Or maybe there's ways to involuntarily summon a demon. And so I'm kind of curious about in the, in the world of Wendigo lore, which you certainly know more about than I do how does the Wendigo does? It doesn't need to be summoned. But is it summoned because people are starving? Is it summoned because there's gluttony, like what calls forth the Wendigo?
Speaker 2:I think the Wendigo is kind of similar to like a werewolf. You know, when you think of demons, you think of like okay, these beings are sentient, they have names, they come from somewhere else, you know. Not always the case, but like that's the general vibe with the Wendigo. It's more of something that a human becomes because of certain conditions, and that's why I likened it to a werewolf, because, you know, I would say that a Wendigo is a type of demon.
Speaker 1:But it's really depending on how you're defining the term Of course, of course, yeah, and you know we're pretty fast and loose.
Speaker 2:Well, you know, once again going back to Hellraiser Sure, so the Cenobites very much seem like demons. But we get to see how a Cenobite is created and they take like a normal dude who's done some bad shit and then they put him through all this processing that turns him into Pinhead. Right. You know and so like yeah, what makes a demon? Is it something that is born from you know, primordial brimstone and hellfire, or is it a soul that has become so corrupted that it becomes this monstrosity? Just, you know different lores.
Speaker 1:Or is it just an old pagan god that becomes vilified because of society?
Speaker 2:Good point there's also, I think we talked about I'm really digging deep to try to remember my Wendigo lore here, but there was something about how there's like the spirit of nature when becoming ravenously hungry, you kind of make your body susceptible to that spirit inhabiting you, right? So in that case now we're dealing with demonic possession, right? So you know where this Wendigo inhabits the human and transforms them physically.
Speaker 1:Yeah, it's fascinating. There's so much more to kind of think about, but it's awesome and I'm thankful again to all four of these writers, all new to Lunatics as of today and awesome narrators, as always. These are so fun. These episodes are so fun because it really, I feel like, concludes our themes and kind of brings them into the modern day in a fun way.
Speaker 2:I wholeheartedly agree.
Speaker 1:And thank you for being along on this demonic summoning journey. I know our history episode was. You know a lot for all of us. Amazing and we had a really, really fun interview with Sean and Jen from the Sacrifice game and from the Ranger, and now we have these awesome stories. So thank you to everybody who kind of helped with this whole series and helped them. Thanks, alan, and we'll talk to you all very soon. Bye, bass rough-dead.